Page 13 of The Dove
A sudden awareness pricked the back of his neck and had him glancing back over his shoulder. His teeth clenched around the cheroot, severing it completely. The burning tip fell to the ground at his feet, forgotten, as he set eyes on a figure in a navy-blue redingote. It matched the feathers pinned in her elaborate coiffure, and the gown he knew she wore underneath.
It was her. He recognized her even at a distance, even from behind with her lithe body shrouded in that heavy coat. The lightness of her steps gave her away, as well as the sway of her hips and the tilt of her head. She moved swiftly, white puffs of steam huffing over her head as if from an engine. Truly, she practically ran down the sidewalk, seeming to be in a hurry. To get away from him, or to get out of the cold, he wondered?
The prickle he’d felt when she had stepped onto the street grew into a full-fledged tingle that raced down his spine and settled in his middle, the heat spreading to his groin. Plucking the other end of the destroyed cheroot from between his lips and tossing it aside, he stomped on the glowing end to put it out, releasing a sound that was half groan, half growl.
“Fucking hell,” he grumbled, his legs already moving him toward her, his entire body honing itself for the chase, the fight, the inevitable surrender. “Bloody fucking shite … goddamn it.”
He had thought himself stronger than this, but apparently, three months of starvation had proved his undoing. The meal he wanted was within reach, and the beast in him roared, baring its fangs, mouth watering. His belly clenched and quivered, the urge to devour overcoming all good sense. Muttering the oaths at himself did not help. Nothing would, save getting his hands on her and expelling every ounce of his pent-up lust. The space between them began to close, his swift strides helping him overtake her in a matter of moments.
Her breath quickened—he could both hear and see it. Then, the flash of her face over one shoulder, the widening of her eyes and parting of her lips. A strangled cry emitted from her throat, speeding his pulse and quickening the dull throb in his breeches. He was unbearably hard now, his tip painfully abraded by the fabric of his clothes, beads of wetness already gathering at the slit. His bollocks drew up tight against his body when her scent wafted up his nostrils, his abdominal muscles clenching and hardening with the maddening desire driving him. Impulse ruled his every move, all his carefully laid plans forgotten as he grinned at her, flashing his teeth, letting her see his intent before he’d even laid a hand on her.
“No,” she whispered, the desperate sound carrying to him on the light evening breeze.
Yes, he thought, the word lodged in his chest, trapped there by the breath he held. Anticipation made his blood sing in his veins as he drew close enough to see the way moonlight made her hair gleam like polished cherry wood, the way her dilated pupils ate away the blue of her irises until her eyes almost appeared black.
Words failed him, but then, he did not need to speak for her to know why he was here, what he wanted from her. He spotted an opening between houses, a dark slit that would make them invisible to anyone on the street. Taking hold of the back of her neck, he steered her to the right, aiming her toward the alley. She turned on him, her nails raking against his face just before the darkness swallowed them up.
He took hold of her waist, propelling her up against the side of the building and trapping her with his own body, bracing his legs on either side of hers to keep her from kicking. Her palm slammed against his jaw, the aggravating burst of discomfort the blow caused only making his cock strain harder toward her. He was surprised his placket didn’t burst under the strain, sending buttons skittering across the ground.
Taking hold of one wrist, he suffered yet another blow and the scratch of her nails over his cheek. With a growl, he captured the other arm and pinned them both against the stone wall. The sparse moonlight allowed him to witness the conflicting fear and desire written in her parted lips and widened eyes. Though he didn’t need the benefit of sight to sense it. He heard it in her rapid, panting breath, felt it in the rise and fall of her breasts as he melded his body against hers from chest to knee.
Pressing his face into the curve of her neck and trailing his nose along her skin, taking his first real scent of her, he released his breath on a primal growl, the fragrance ramping his lust to its limit.
“Now, now,” he whispered, chuckling against her skin when she shuddered. “Is that any way to greet an old friend, little dove?”
She writhed and twisted in his hold, her pelvis bumping his and her breasts teasing his chest as she tried to fight her way out of his hold. He clenched his teeth and groaned, his cock practically weeping in response to the stimulation. Bucking his hips at her, he let her feel him, nestling the underside of his shaft against her mound.
“Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten how much I love it when you fight me?” he murmured, rasping his lips and the stubble on his chin against her smooth throat, tracing a path to her ear.
“Damn you to Hell,” she growled, tilting her head to meet his gaze.
If eyes were weapons, he would be dead on the spot, the venom in her glare undisguised. Meanwhile, her body had begun to give in, her tension melting away by degrees.
“Only if I can take you with me,” he quipped with a smile.
Her nostrils flared, and she tried again to twist away from him, this effort downright halfhearted compared to her earlier one.
“Damn you, release me,” she begged, turning her head so she was no longer looking directly at him. “I will scream.”
Biting the point of her chin, he chuckled. “Promise?”
Her growl of frustration was smothered by his open mouth covering hers, his tongue dipping inside. She tasted like champagne and some sort of creamy dessert, the flavors lingering just over her own familiar tang. His hips surged over and over, his cock rubbing against her mons through their clothes.
“Fuck,” he muttered against her open mouth, shuddering as he fought not to spend in his breeches like some green boy. “I forgot how good you taste.”
Her only response was a whimper, her resistance fading away as raw desire took its place. Her body arched into his, like that of a marionette controlled by the strings of its handler. Against her will, it bent to his, coming alive at his fingertips. Her nipples pebbled against his palms when he cupped her breasts, and she quivered when he dragged his fingers lower, over her ribs and the nip of her waist. Then, her hips filled his grasp, and he spread his fingers to squeeze her buttocks, moving one of his legs to wedge between hers. Lifting her, he pulled her down onto his thigh, bending his knee to keep her balanced. They moaned in unison—her likely from the pleasure of her mons being so tightly compressed against him, Adam from the realization that she wore nothing under her gown. Her coat had parted, so only the silk of her gown separated them.
“Wicked little dove,” he rasped in her ear, giving her hips another squeeze and rocking her against his leg.
She choked on a moan, its strained sound telling him she hovered right on the edge of giving in, of losing the fight with her own desires.
“You couldn’t possibly have gone without proper undergarments for my sake, did you?” he teased.
A huff of annoyance tickled his jaw, and then she gasped when he surged her against his thigh again, dragging her mons over the hard muscle.
“No-oh!”
Her denial broke off on a sharp cry when he tightened his hold on her, his fingers digging into her arse and pulling her against him, harder and harder with each stroke. With a weak moan, she slumped, her head falling onto his shoulder and her arms going limp as she rode his thigh. Seeming heedless to her own actions, she undulated against him, her legs tightening around his hips. The heat emanating from her cunt scorched him through his breeches, the fabric between them going slightly damp.
